Thursday, December 23, 2010
Anyway, they did this last year on Festivus, too, and I couldn't do anything then because I was awesome and in Disney World. This year, however, I bring you the full list of Todd Bertuzzi's Airing of Grievances.
Happy Festivus, everyone!
Monday, December 20, 2010
So here it is. Part Two. Where Dancing Queen really gets stuck in your head.
[and as a slight off-topic post-comic note, my take on the game last night - and all I am willing to say on #400 is over here at NHL Hot Stove.]
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Chris Osgood is a [shirtless] representative for ESPN.com and gets to interview Lidstrom. At one point, he asks him the question, "Favorite Swedish golfer [male or female] and favorite ABBA song."
He continues to ramble on and says: "'Cause I love ABBA. 'Dancing Queen' - I used to dance to that nonstop in my early twenties. I don't anymore, obviously..."
Well, he's obviously lying. Because he totally still dances to it nonstop. Here's just a little bit of proof...
[My favorite is definitely the science class frame.]
Many thanks to everyone who pitched in. I'm going to try to get all of your ideas in there. But thanks to @thetinnishflash, @brigid22, @TheTripleDeke, @LolaByTheBay, @bradonweb, @saraneuie, @captnorris5, @sullyosis, @rednuck, @k_lap, @joe55167, @mserven, and @allisonRW96.
Yeah, it was that crazy.
Part II coming soon!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Well, what if Zetterberg kept this up off the ice, too? The results may look something like this.
[You know the deal by now: click to make it bigger.]
I would apologize for the crummy hand-drawn comic, but the tablet computer-drawn comic is pretty much the same quality.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
And the point of this is to show you guys what the ladies sitting behind me sounded like with their ridiculous Canadian accents.
As a disclaimer, I absolutely love Canadian accents. I could sit and listen to Chris Osgood talk forever and be completely content. But these ladies were just hilarious because it was like...the stereotypical accent. Also, I honestly like the Habs. Just...not when they're playing the Wings.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
My opinion on NaNo: It is hilarious, ridiculous, crack-tastic fun trying to write 1,667 words per day in 30 days for a story. It's 30 days and nights of literary abandon and at the end when you make it to that goal, you feel extremely satisfied. And also drained. I haven't wanted to sit and write since it ended; I finished with a little over 53,000 words in my story, and it is not yet finished.
Summing it up in a nutshell, my novel this year is about the life of an outlaw on the run, and she's on the run for a crime she didn't commit. And the media has given her the uncreative alias of Cassidy Sundance, simply because she used the name Cassidy once. [I swear this gets hockey related...]
But within this month of novel-writing, there are crazy storylines that come out of nowhere. At one point in my story, Cassidy and her sidekick at the time, Jason, get videotaped on Cash Cab. Also, she goes to a Washington Capitals game in DC against the Vancouver Canucks and talks to a Wings fan at the game.
Also, Cassidy has a run in with Patrick Kane. In a taxi cab.
Now, if there are any good-natured Hawks fans reading this blog, I mean no disrespect at all. I swear I'm just poking fun. A special thanks to @alyssa_irl for giving me some background information on Patty Kane as well, since I really don't know much about him outside of the taxi incident.
Background info you need to know for the scene: She's in Chicago [duh]. The Jason mentioned in the narration is her last cohort and he was, for lack of a more appropriate word, a badass. And please remember this is pretty much unedited and crack-tastic.
She tried not to take taxis, mostly because they were expensive. But leaving a crowded club in what looked to be a bad part of town at three in the morning made Cassidy think twice. She hailed the first taxi she saw, surprised that they stopped when there was a young looking guy in the back seat.
“You sure I can hop in?” Cassidy asked as the guy opened the door and slid across the leather seat to make room for her.
“Yeah, of course, sure, why not?” he replied in a rush, seeming overly elated at Cassidy’s arrival. She got into the taxi and closed the door behind her. In Cassidy’s opinion, he was a scrawny little kid, who looked a little on the dorky side, although she had to admit that his neck and shoulders looked pretty tough. His light brown hair was curly and long, practically a mullet, with several longer locks seeming to wrap around his ears.
“So where are you headed?” he asked. In just these few words, Cassidy got the impression that Jason would have beaten this kid up for simply existing.
“Downtown,” she replied. She wasn’t about to reveal her entire history to this stranger.
“Downtown’s pretty big, hon,” the guy told her. “Care to be more specific?”
She noticed a bit of a slurred edge to his words. Was he drunk? Cassidy shook her head. “Wherever you’re not going,” she told him.
“Oohh.” The guy let out a bark of a laugh. “Nice one, but I betcha you don’t know who I am if you’re saying that…”
Cassidy narrowed her eyes at the boy. Was he supposed to be famous? She certainly had never seen him before and she didn’t really care to find out his name. Well, two could play at that game. “I bet you that you don’t know who I am if you’re being so casual with me.”
He leaned over the invisible barrier between them to ask in a low voice, “You aren’t a cop, are you?” There was a hint of beer on his breath, but it was so faint that Cassidy wasn’t sure if she smelled it or if she was just imagining what she wanted to smell.
“Okay good.” He moved back to his seat with a grin on his face. “So you really don’t know me?”
“Want to see my Stanley Cup ring?” he asked suddenly.
“Your… what?” Cassidy tried to repeat what the guy had said.
“My Stanley Cup ring! For winning the Stanley Cup!” He was holding out his right hand, which had a large diamond-encrusted ring on his third finger; it had an Indian chieftain head in the center with “Stanley Cup” on one side and “Champions” on the other.
“…Impressive,” Cassidy finally said. She didn’t know what to make of it.
“Thanks!” He was grinning at her, looking more like a teenage boy than however old he was. “I’ve got a silver medal from the Olympics, too.”
“…Do you wear it all the time?”
“Just when I think I’ll need it,” he joked. “Tonight, I wasn’t so smart.”
“Too bad,” Cassidy said, sarcasm etched in her tone. “That would have really done the trick.” The guy sat back in his seat and sighed. “So then where are you headed?”
“The United Center,” he replied. “Practice in a bit.”
“Practice for what?”
“The Chicago Blackhawks. This city’s National Hockey League team,” he explained, giving Cassidy an incredulous look. “Are you from out of town or something?”
“Yeah, I’m from Tulsa. I’ve never paid attention to hockey,” she said. “And you do know it’s three in the morning, right? You probably don’t have practice.”
“What?!” he exclaimed. He rifled through his pockets and pulled out his Blackberry. “But Tazer sent me a text that said we had practice! Here!” He held out his phone for Cassidy to read a text. The road was so bumpy that she couldn’t get a good look at the screen, so she just made a noncommittal noise.
“Maybe he’s playing a prank on you?” she suggested.
“Hm… that does sound like him.” The guy sighed and sat back in his seat, looking out the window dejectedly. Cassidy felt a little sorry for him, although she didn't know why. Being pranked seemed perfectly normal for someone his age (or what she assumed was his age; after all, he looked like he was barely sixteen).
"What's your name?" she finally asked, realizing they hadn't exchanged that information.
"Patrick," he told her. "You?"
"Cass," she said. "Nice to meet you, Patrick."
"You, too." He was smiling. "So seriously. Where are you headed?"
"I don't know. I'll just get out wherever you get out."
"Sounds good." Patrick's knees bounced in time with an unheard song. For the remainder of the taxicab ride, they sat in almost complete silence, save for extended moments of small talk. Patrick seemed to be engrossed in nothing but his hockey, and Cassidy couldn't say anything on the subject; likewise, she couldn't tell this random person the truth about her, even if he wouldn't remember the next day since he seemed to be drunk.
"Well, I'm getting out here," Patrick said as the cab pulled up to the United Center.
"You're still getting out here, even if you don't have practice?" Cassidy asked.
"Yeah, there's some good restaurants around this area," he explained. "And I don't live too far away. Actually - " He seemed to be off in his own world. " - Tazer doesn't live too far from here. If he's home, I could get him back..."
Cassidy tried not to roll her eyes at his childishness. Instead, she reached into her bag and started looking for the envelope of money she carried with her at all times. Patrick put a hand on her wrist to stop her.
"No way, Cass," he said, shaking his head. "This cab ride is on me."
"I can't let you do that," Cassidy tried to protest, but Patrick was already handing money to the driver. "Thanks, Patrick... I guess."
"Not a problem." He was grinning at her again.
"Excuse me?" the cab driver said to catch their attention, his Spanish accent thick. "I don't have enough change for you."
"...What?" Patrick asked.
"Your change is twenty-five cents," the driver repeated. "But I have no change on me. Not at this time of night."
"So you're shorting me a quarter?" he said, his voice slowly raising in volume and pitch. "I should kick your ass for that!"
"I'm sorry..." he was trying to explain, but Patrick seemed to be blinded by his rage.
"Geez, you're getting upset over a fucking quarter?" Cassidy exclaimed, causing Patrick to look over at her. She hadn't realized she had sworn at him; apparently Jason's foul mouth had rubbed off on her. "You're a professional athlete and you're upset over a quarter? I mean, come on." He was giving her an incredulous look. She was enjoying poking fun at the guy. "You would really beat up a cab driver over a quarter? That's just stupid. Maybe even career suicide." She didn't know the workings of the sport of hockey, but assumed fighting with a cab driver over a quarter didn't make for a pretty headline.
"I hate to break it to you..." Patrick tried to begin, although Cassidy wasn't listening; she had exited the cab and was already walking down the sidewalk. He was hot on her heels. "Hey, wait a minute!" he called after her as she strode down the street.
"No thanks," she said over her shoulder. "I've got my own plans, Patrick, and they don't involve getting arrested for beating up a cab driver for a quarter. Even I wouldn't do that, and I'm almost at rock bottom."
The running footsteps that had been approaching her suddenly slowed and came to a stop. Cassidy didn't dare look back; she had a feeling Patrick had a sad puppy dog look on his face and she didn't want to be sucked into feeling regret.
"Call me?" he shouted before Cassidy rounded the corner. She just shook her head amusedly and kept on, hoping to find a park of some sort to get some rest in for the evening. Perhaps tomorrow would bring better fortune. And better fortune certainly wasn't in Chicago, Illinois.
--------------------[By the way, having Cassidy call him "Patrick" is just really weird. I'm so used to calling players by their last names.]
Comments? Concerns? General responses?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
This is going old school, back before I got a tablet and started doing fancy things, so it's all hand-drawn. And not even colored, because I was lazy.
So if you can recall at this point last year, we had about sixteen of our players injured, including both Kronwall and Franzen. In an article last year in the Free Press, there was the quote of "Johan Franzen plans to cook a turkey for the first time, with or without the help of Niklas Kronwall," that spawned this comic.
I present to you "Cooking Lessons with Johan Franzen and Niklas Kronwall (Thanksgiving Dinner)."
Monday, November 15, 2010
As you guys can read in that little heading over on the side, I'm known as the craziest Wings fan at Caribou Coffee. Last year, one of the morning regulars who is a season ticket holder gave me his three tickets to the Season Ticket Holder Open House, where you can skate on the ice, tour the locker room, and get autographs from at least three players. That was perhaps one of the best nights of my life.
This year, he gave me the tickets again. Of course, I brought along my two brothers because otherwise they would kill me. And I mean that literally.
Last year, we were all about skating on the ice. We signed up for the first skate possible and were three of ten people skating at that time. It was awesome.
Our goal this year? Get Nicklas Lidstrom's autograph. Skating could wait until later [and it did]. You're assigned to one of the autograph stations and once they rip your ticket, you can go in the "overflow line" for any other table. How the overflow line works: everyone in the normal line [who has been assigned to that table] goes first, then the overflow line goes. So, in essence, if you're waiting in the overflow line for Datsyuk, you could be waiting for an hour.
There were three chairs at our table when we got in line up in the stands. We all took wagers on who would be there. If I may recall correctly, I guessed Filppula, Salei and...either Bertuzzi or Modano.
The lady in the row in front of us asked the person escorting the rows down where players were. The worker pulled out her list and was showing it. My brother got a good look at it and whispers loudly, "We got Lidstrom!!"
I didn't believe him. At all. Number one, he can't really see [I mean, he can, but he wasn't wearing his glasses] and number two, he's looking at the list from a distance and could be looking at a different section.
Player number one at our station: Dan Cleary
Cleary...doesn't seem to like these events. As you can see, his Blackberry is on the table. While the line was backed up, he started texting on it; he did this same thing at the Detroit Economic Club Luncheon - he was on his Blackberry half the time. So I decided to relieve his boredom and ask, "Hey, how are these things usually?" He looked up, smiled, and said, "They're... they're okay."
That's not exactly reassuring, Dan. And if you're actually reading this, I apologize if I'm making a broad statement about you enjoyment at these things. This is just what I perceive.
Player number two? NICKLAS LIDSTROM.
I was in awe. And, not to sound like a fangirl, but he touched my hand twice. Nicklas Lidstrom, unlike other players, took the puck out of my hand, signed it, and placed it back in my hand rather than sliding it across the table. Nicklas Lidstrom is all class. And he is so nice.
Player number three was Joey MacDonald. The picture didn't turn out of him.
So, having our goal accomplished by sheer luck, we were uncertain of what to do. Who should we try to aim for? Datsyuk? Zetterberg? We scoped out the tables. The ones I remember: Datsyuk, Salei, and Helm were at one, Zetterberg was with Miller, Ozzie, Kindl, Franzen, and Filppula were at one, Ericsson, and Salei were at another, and Bertuzzi, Holmstrom, and Kronwall were at another. We were vaguely tempted to get in Bertuzzi's line, but we met Homer and Kronner at this last year.
It was between Datsyuk and Franzen. We opted for Franzen. Despite having already met Filppula twice and having a signed puck and a signed picture of his goal in Game 2 against Pittsburgh in 2008 and getting a hug from him, I was all for it.
And I brought the Franzenmuth picture that's the header for this blog. This picture I made up two years ago after a typing error when I tried to type Frankenmuth. I sent it to someone at the Detroit News last summer in hopes that he would get a kick out of it/show it to Franzen. Which he did, and Franzen was confused by it because he didn't know Frankenmuth.
That was all going to change. Oh yes indeed. [sorry, I get a little carried away with epic things, hah.]
While in line, I had about four security people ask me about the picture. Two ladies thought it was cool, one guy chuckled, and the guy behind Kindl was thoroughly impressed.
Kindl signed my puck. And then it was on to Franzen. I had my brother take a video to document it.
You can't hear what I say at the beginning very clearly, so here it is:
Me: "I don't know if you remember, but someone from the Detroit News showed you this picture before..."
For the best part about this video, watch it again. But this time, just watch Filppula in the background. [maybe doubleclick and watch it in Youtube since Filppula probably gets cut off because of this layout.]
Here is the finished result. This will be in its own frame on my desk at home. I still get deked out of my pants looking at this signed photo.
Oh and as a side-note, after I explained it to Kindl, I looked at Franzen and said, "So you have an entire city named after you. I mean, it's fictional, but it's still a city!" And my brother told him he should go to Frankenmuth because "it'll be a good time."
Now, you may or may not know that Filppula is one of my favorite players and has been since 2007 or so. This next part just makes my life complete.
I had Filppula sign my jersey since I don't need another puck. And he kept looking at me with that cute smile and kind of glancing at the Franzenmuth picture since I still had it on the table. So I grinned at him and said, "Do you want to see it, too?" since Kindl was super involved before. He answered yes.
I showed it to him and explained the whole thing. He picked it up, looked at it, read, "Fran-zen-muth," sounding it out in his awesome Finnish accent, and started to giggle. And I mean giggle. He handed it back to me and I was entirely smitten.
We ate our free dinner of a hot dog, chips, and pop, and took pictures of the rest of the players. I stopped and watched Ozzie for a full two minutes. I should have asked for a quick picture - his line was going slow enough, but I didn't want to be a jerk.
We skated out on the ice with about a hundred other people and took pictures at center ice and in the penalty box. We opted not to do the locker room tour because the line was about three-hundred people long.
All in all, an extremely successful evening. This was better than last year's for sure, despite me impressing Kronwall last year with my Kronwall bag.
I am thankful for the people I know who give me opportunities like this. I owe them so much more than they can imagine. Opportunities like this don't come up that often and if I sound as though I come off bragging, I'm really not trying to do that. I just want to share my experience with you awesome hockey fans who will appreciate it.
I shall end this as every post should probably end:
Let's go Red Wings!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Well, back last season, there was an article I read somewhere that was an interview with Stuart that said he had found out Val played drums and he really wanted to start a garage band. I had planned on drawing it then, but got distracted by a lot of real life things happening and never got back to it.
The four of us hammered out some of the details and this is what happens when you start drawing the reality TV show called "Brad Stuart's Garage Band."
[It will definitely get more hilarious.]
Sunday, October 24, 2010
"The Detroit Red Wings: Why I hate this obnoxious hockey team."
Go ahead and read it.
For a split moment, I thought about making a rebuttal at my legitimate hockey writing job, but decided that maybe I'll just do it here instead. All I plan on doing is highlighting points of it, okay? Okay, let's go.
"The Detroit Red Wings are the Stars Western Conference rivals; around here we call them the "Dead Things" or "Dead Wings.""
1. The Wings may be the Stars' WC rivals, but the Stars aren't the Wings' WC rivals. That would be Colorado for the better part of the 90s and 2000s, and lately it's been Chicago. And sometimes Nashville [Nashville usually in the playoffs].
2. We haven't been called "Dead Wings" since the 1980s, at least by the majority of hockey fandom.
"Mike Modano is a Detroit Red Wing."
Well, yes, he is. And I'm sorry that he had to leave Dallas, especially since he's such an iconic player for that entire franchise. But is it our fault that the Stars decided they wanted to take another direction and had to let him go? Is it our fault that he's from the Detroit area? That he has a hockey arena in the area named after him? That he decided to choose his original home to finish his career?
The answer is no to all of those questions. I'm sorry that you hate us so much and I'm sorry you have to see Modano in a Winged Wheel, but that's something you have to live with because of your organization's choices. And maybe it'll work out.
"The Detroit Red Wings are the New York Yankees of the NHL."
I've always hated this comparison.
"The Detroit Red Wings are arrogant."
An excerpt: "They prance on the ice and are smug off of it. Most of the Detroit players are self-important nit-wits. I can't stand watching them play, or give interviews or breathe; they are jerks."
Don't make assumptions about players just because you hate the whole team. I hate Sidney Crosby with a passion, but I've been told that off the ice he is nice and moderately humble. I wouldn't doubt it.
Most hockey players are pretty humble, so assuming that an entire franchise's team is made up of "self-important nit-wits" and "jerks" is a pretty big statement to make, especially basing it off of their play. And come on, have you ever read an interview with Datsyuk? He's freaking hilarious! [And likes to fish. But that's another story.]
I've fortunately had the opportunity to meet/have conversations [or at least interaction] with Wings players. Brett Lebda likes to swear casually and poke fun at his team mates; Brian Rafalski was talking to me about Halloween costumes for five minutes because I mentioned I was Zetterberg for Halloween last year; Niklas Kronwall was ridiculously happy and impressed with my Kronwall totebag [he apparently had no idea they existed and in his words, "It could be really useful, you know, on the road."]; Patrick Eaves was crazy concerned when I told him I fell on the ice while skating; and Val Filppula kept assuring me it was totally okay for me to ask for his signature since I kept apologizing while he signed my puck [hey, I felt bad for interrupting his dessert].
Even walking up to players and asking for a picture, I've never been turned down. These guys don't get bombarded by crazy, rabid fans, which is why they're so lenient and pretty friendly. That may also have to do with their personalities.
"Detroit Red Wings play boring hockey."
Excerpt: "Watching the Red Wings play is like watching a bunch of boring robots skate around the ice."
WHO TOLD HER LIDSTROM'S A ROBOT?! THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET, PEOPLE.
Apparently she hasn't seen anyone get Kronwalled. Or watched Datsyuk and Zetterberg do their magic thing. I will admit there are some boring games, but that can be said for any team.
And the last paragraph:
"The Red Wings fans are some of the least knowledgeable, obnoxious, arrogant group of wannabe hockey fans I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. They are more interested in getting drunk at the games than to actually watch the game. I guess if my team was as boring as Detroit's I would just drink instead too. When the fans are good and drunk and want to show their Red Wings some love, they throw Octopus out onto the ice. Sometimes the octopus is alive, sometimes it isn't; either way, it's just another stupid thing Detroit Red Wings fans do. I hate the Detroit Red Wings and their obnoxious fans. The Red Wings have the worst hockey fans and the worst hockey team."
Apparently "tradition" isn't a word in her vocabulary [or Gary Bettman's, for that matter.]
Every hockey team has their drunk fans, their obnoxious fans, their annoying fans. Anyone I have ever sat by in a Wings game has always started talking stats with me and discussing things that are happening in the game or happened in previous games or what we think is going to happen. Rarely have they ever had more than one glass of beer. And I'm sitting in the upper rows of the upper bowl in the cheap seats.
Wings fans know their hockey. Yeah, you get the loudmouth fans who doesn't know anything [like that one guy who was complaining that the person sitting next to them loved Holmstrom], but an entire fan base being like that is pretty rare. I know fellow Wings fans will point at Hawks fans and Penguins fans, but I know better. I know decent fans of both those teams [and some terrible ones, too, don't get me wrong] and heck, the internet isn't the best place to meet thousands of amazing fans of teams you hate.
Wings fans are passionate about their hockey. Really passionate. It's because we're so close to Canada. Those people rub off on you pretty easy. So being overly passionate about our team apparently makes us look arrogant. And that's because we usually know our facts.
You want to meet good, cool fans that know their stuff? Make a comment about their NHL shirt or hat when you see them and start up a conversation. I do that every time I'm in Disney World and it's always so much fun. I high-fived a guy in a Whalers jersey at the Magic Kingdom. I also got some compliments on my Kronwall bag. Hell, I had a guy seating my family at the "Finding Nemo" musical in the Animal Kingdom who said he was a Bruins fan. His response when he saw our Wings attire? This:
"Uh oh. You guys are wings fans. We can't seat you up front even if you DO have an autographed hat! You have to be a Boston Bruins fan. But you're Original Six, so we'll let it slide."
He seated us in the "penalty box," and then put Stars fans next to us and some Caps fans across the row. I love hockey stories from Disney. They always stick with me.
I know the writer of said article was probably looking for a response like mine just to get some attention and normally I don't tend to voice my opinion on anything, but the part insulting the players and saying they're jerks really got to me. To be fortunate enough to meet the players and see that they aren't arrogant like other athletes makes me feel as though I have to defend their humanity to people that assume otherwise.
You know the saying "Don't judge a book by it's cover"? Don't do that. Get informed before you post something for the whole internet to see.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Last night at eleven, The Simpsons' episode was "Homer's Barbershop Quartet," my favorite Simpsons episode. If you've never seen it, or don't watch The Simpsons, the gist of it is that Homer's in a barbershop quartet and the entire thing is a huge - and I mean huge - parody of The Beatles.
My favorite part of the episode is when Homer meets George Harrison. And since it's copyrighted on Youtube, I recorded it from my computer. You need to watch it to get the whole joke of the comic [or just to see that part of the episode, if you're a Simpsons fan].
Well, I tweeted that quote last night and my Holmstrom-loving friend thought that "Homer" was Holmstrom.
Naturally, it had to be drawn with Holmstrom in Homer's place because we learned during last season that Homer loves candy. And by default, he probably loves sweets, and sweets include brownies. There. That's the connection.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
[As a side-note/error, Homer lost his beard in the sixth frame. My bad.]
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The friend of mine that got me into loving Filppula back when he first made the team has made Filppula's Fabulous Funnel Cakes into a running joke. We firmly (and jokingly) believe thatVal and Ilari totally make funnel cakes when they aren't playing hockey.
Therefore, it had to be fleshed out and expanded in comic form. [click to make it bigger, naturally.]
And if that wasn't that hilarious, trust me - there's a hilarious Holmstrom-centric one on the horizon.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
I swear, if you get injured in tonight's game against the Blackhawks, I'm going to scream and scream and scream some more and you will hear it all the way in Chicago. I will also find you when you get back to Michigan, slap you across the face, and then proceed to break down in tears and refer to that joking comment you made last season when you said you would never play a game against Chicago in October again. I took that completely seriously.
Of course, all of this will happen only if you get injured in tonight's game. Just play awesome and you know...score the GWG again because that would really help me in my fantasy hockey league.
Your passionate fan who has created an entire fictional city in your name
As a hilarious side-note, I absolutely adore reading Down Goes Brown's posts over at his blog. His latest entry is how to predict how this upcoming season will go. His first prediction states:
"October 9, 2010 - The Chicago Blackhawks raise their Stanley Cup banner prior to their game against the Detroit Red Wings. The moment is marred somewhat when Detroit third-liner Kris Draper surveys the rafters and comments "Wow, Chicago, you've won four Stanley Cups? Me too!""
Truer words were never spoken. Okay, maybe once. It was my friend before Game Seven against Pittsburgh. He said, "Kirk Maltby could have five Stanley Cups. Kirk. Maltby."
Friday, October 1, 2010
Either way, I blame Ilya Kovalchuk.
Anyway. With the season quickly approaching, I have realized that I've neglected this place over the summer. Things were crazy at work [and still pretty much are, but at least my schedule is back to being steady] and then I started that other writing job over at nhlhotstove.com [which will continue on, so keep checking for Wings updates over there] and then suddenly BAM I'm in classes again. I also completely neglected my Wings' comic, although if you guys don't mind even crappier drawn comics on lined paper, I'll start posting again [I tend to zone out doodling in classes].
But yes, my first ever pre-season game will be tonight and I am thoroughly excited. I've been holding onto dozens of Red Wings tickets for over a month now and holy shit does it feel good to finally be able to use them! If I get any awesome pictures or videos, I will definitely be sharing them with you guys.
This is just a post to assure you that I am still alive and shall be updating more consistently once hockey starts. Honestly, I need that in my life again.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I went with my two brothers, my one neighbor, and the guy who had the four extra tickets. We ended up getting there super early, so we browsed through the 50/50 raffle prizes and the silent auction items. There was some pretty sweet stuff, but nothing that I said, "HOLY CRAP, I NEED THAT RIGHT NOW!!" ...Maybe the signed Lidstrom stick, but I didn't try.
After an hour of sitting around, waiting for people to show up [aside from seeing Draper leaving in his Range Rover as we were walking in], Ken Daniels walked into the room. Man, that guy is really short in person. By this time, there were a decent amount of people loitering around, having appetizers and drinks.
I swear I saw Henrik Zetterberg out in the hallway while we were waiting. We were sitting at a high table directly in front of the doorway and I'm telling you I saw the Zetterbeard. No one else was paying attention and he never showed up, but I'm telling you it was him! It's quite possible that he just hit the bathroom and left - a lot of the guys did that [Abdelkader for sure].
Then this tall, lanky guy walked in. Like, legitimately lanky. Awkward lanky. It was weird. And I couldn't stop staring at him because all I could think was, I know this guy. He's from somewhere. I should know him. I was staring at him for a good ten seconds when my brother finally says, "Oh hey, that's Mike Modano!" [By the time I finally got the courage to interrupt and ask for a picture, he had disappeared, and in the end he had actually left. I was sad.]
Mike Babcock came out of nowhere. He's always fun to see. And yes, he does actually smile.
Then Darren Helm and Drew Miller came in. My neighbor was freaking out because he loves Helm. They ended up disappearing, but five minutes later, we noticed them loitering at the other end of the hall, talking to each other with no one else around. So my one brother and I trekked over there first to ask for a picture.
They seemed a little startled at first, probably because no one was around them and then suddenly we were there being all, "HI. PICTURES?!?!" ...Okay, not exactly. But you know. Hockey players. You get a little excited to see them, but you play it cool. They were really nice about it.
Thanks for smiling, Helm. [and yes. There are a lot of stripes in this picture.]
Then it was the other brother and my neighbor's turn to go bug them. My neighbor got two pucks signed and was fawning over them the whole night [mostly to make us laugh, but probably for serious, too. I can never tell with that one.]
Right before we all were seated at our actual table, Ted Lindsay finally showed up. My oldest brother has been adamant about wanting a signed puck since we met him at church back in June [best sharing of peace I've ever gotten. Thanks, Ted]. I went over with him because I wanted a picture.
You all know Lindsay's legacy, his image, how he played, yes? He was nicknamed Terrible Ted for a reason. Maybe not as bad as Happy Gilmore trying to stab someone with his skate, but still pretty terrible.
That man is absolutely adorable now. He reminds me of my grandpa, whom I love to death. He's the only player where it doesn't feel weird to call him "Mr. [last name]." Come on, do you really want to say "Mr. Zetterberg?" You call him Hank! But Mr. Lindsay just rolls off the tongue. He deserves it, too.
My brother got a signed puck and when I asked for a picture, he had to shift his hold on the puck. Lindsay was all, "Oh oh! Be careful! That's still wet! You don't want to smear it!!" It was freaking adorable, seriously. And I apologize if I'm saying adorable too much.
As a sidenote, I also saw Ken Kal and Mickey Redmond. When Mickey walked in, it caused my brother to pretend to scream, "WHOO! MICKEY! LET'S MAKE SOME HAY!"
The dinner itself was delicious. And after dinner, they had an auction for four different items: two of them were different paintings of Lindsay that were pretty sweet, one was 32 rounds of golf at courses in Southeast Michigan, and the fourth one I would have bid on in a heartbeat if I had any kind of money.
It was a trip on the Wings' jet to the game in Chicago on October 9. A trip on the Wings' jet with the team.
Bidding started at $3,000. It was up to $4,500 by the time we were leaving.
Anyway. Shawn Burr did all of the auctioneer stuff and he is hilarious. He told a lot of jokes, one of them absolutely terrible that I can't even repeat on here in fear of offending anyone. But it had everyone in stitches for a few minutes afterward.
All in all, it was an unforgettable night. Even though there weren't many Wings players, I did get to meet a few and that is always fun. I can't thank my friend enough for including my brothers and I in these sort of gatherings.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Okay, starting from the top. There are a few things on the back that are not Red Wings-related. Like this note that my brother put in my lunch once when I was in high school. It's from The Simpsons. And below it is the map of all our Swedes from the Free Press last year.
Oh, Dan Cleary. How much I loved you at that moment...
Next is the last of the non-Wings related stuff...or at least non-hockey. These are both birthday signs from my brothers from a few years back. The top is the two guys from Steely Dan. "Hey Nineteen" is my favorite song by them and I just happened to turn nineteen. And the bottom one is from "South Park." The Guitar Hero episode. I love Stan's dad.
Down the left side of the door now...I have this picture just because Homer looks so ridiculously happy. It's the first thing I see right before I leave my room.
I've always had a weakness for pictures of saves from this angle. Thanks for that save, Jimmy.
Alex Ovechkin may be my guilty pleasure player. What can I say? I like the guy. But I can see why other people hate his guts. It's not like I'm blinded by my love for him. And hey, if he's up against the Wings, I want us to crush his stupid Russian face. Anyway, I have a macro of him on my door. For the lolz.
Now down the right side of the door. Man, Bert, that was a snipe of a goal.
This is the section I have dubbed as "The Ass-Kicking Section." ...Mixed with some more macros.
The "blatant interference" may be my favorite one, only because it's the most relevant because the refs hate Homer.
This is from the "Olympic Game" last season against Ottawa, the one right before the Olympic break. I was at the game and holy crap, all their kids are adorable. I was telling my friend that Homer's kid came skating out and my friend asked, "Did he head straight for the front of the net?"
Corey Perry, this was the weakest shootout attempt I have ever seen. And yet Dom is somehow on his back, splayed out on the ice.
In the middle of all this is my Red Wings calendar. Well...now it's on Rafalski for September.
Below all of this is the Home Swede Home poster from the Free Press.
Two years ago, I went to the Detroit Economic Club Luncheon with the Detroit Red Wings. Aside from Brett Lebda eating at my table and me finally meeting Filppula [and seeing him shove piles of rice into his mouth], we also got one of those giant Hossa flags and this freaking sweet poster.
And finally, the sports section front page from when we won.
And that is my door. We'll see what additions I make this coming season...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Anyway, I didn't die. Actually, I just moved.
No, not from my house to a new place - I moved on the internet! I am currently the Detroit Red Wings correspondent for NHLHotStove.com! Don't get excited like my brother when he heard "Hot Stove" and thought the CBC. Not that Hot Stove. No, this Hot Stove is all about NHL coverage...but it's not run by the CBC. It's awesome, though, I promise.
How did I get this crazy new job, you ask? Well, it was a cool thing called Twitter. Someone retweeted @NHLHotStove 's tweet of writers needed and I jumped at the opportunity. As of right now, I'm the only Wings writer over there. And it's not as informal as this lil' ol' blog of mine, which I'll probably update now and then with some more opinionated things.
If you're interested, I've had a couple articles posted over there already. Links to them are here [chronologically, by the way]:
-A Look At Detroit's Hometown Boys
-Red Wings Round Off Roster, Sign Justin Abdelkader
-Full Scale Red Wings Offseason Roundup
-Chelios to Wings' Front Office, Kronwall to Surgery
And late tonight/sometime tomorrow, there should be another article posted about Ozzie and Howard. I hope you guys go over there and keep your eyes peeled for posts by me. I love your support here and I hope you take it over there, too.
PS - I got my tickets for the Toronto game in March in the mail today. I almost cried in happiness. Hockey can't start soon enough.
Monday, August 16, 2010
And I'm sick of the Kovalchuk drama, along with probably about 94% of all other NHL fans. And since the Red Wings are slowing down everything they've done [aside from signing Abdelkader. Come on!], there's not a lot to report on for the Wings.
So let me tell you about my bedroom door. Back in the season after the lockout, I started going through the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News papers for the sports section. For some reason, I really wanted newspaper clippings from the front pages. And since then, my bedroom door has turned into this. [click to make it bigger, of course].
And that's just the front. There has been a lot of rearranging over the years, trust me. It all started with the picture on the right.
From our first shootout [and shootout victory] against Columbus. It shows Datsyuk's awesome skill at shootouts. The one on the left is from Game Seven against Phoenix this past post-season. The similarity between the two pictures is why I hung up the "Dat's All" next to "Shootout." And "Shootout" is the oldest newspaper clipping I have on my door. It used to be in my locker throughout high school.
But let's start at the top of the door.
Ville Leino's first goal. Yeah, I know you're thinking, "WHAT?! LEINO?!" It'll be the first picture to come down for the newest one, don't worry. But you have to admit, his first NHL goal was pretty sweet. And my brothers were at this game in DC!
Next comes the reason I call Kronwall "Kronwall of [whatever he just did in the game]", IE: Kronwall of Penalty Kill, Kronwall of Power Play Assist, Kronwall of Check, etc.
Finally, the ZetterCaptain-to-be. When we signed him for twelve years, I knew I needed the newspaper for the next day.
Next row on my front door. This is actually kind of a lame picture to go with the caption, but since it was Lidstrom's 1000th point, I needed it.
"Captain Immortal" was on my door before "Life Off The Ice." I made sure I had "Life" solely for the similarity of the two pictures. And it's Stevie Y. He needs to be on my door.
Next row! Chris Osgood, the love of my life. Of course he has to be on the front of my door. I don't care how many people say he's not a good goalie; he comes through when we need him the most. I still say that if we had won Game Seven against Pittsburgh, he would have had the Conn Smythe in the bag and BAM. Hall of Fame right there. Don't get me started on Chris Osgood, people, or I'll never stop.
Next to Ozzie is the Datsyukian Dangles.
Next row! Remember his Game Five OT winner against Nashville? That was very Frantastic.
This is from when he did that amazing interview with Mitch Albom. If you haven't read it, read it now.
Justin Abdelkader to the rescue in Game Two, anyone?
Next row! Naturally, you need the 2008 Detroit Free Press sports page from the Stanley Cup win. This is actually super yellowed because my door is always in the sun. But don't worry - I have a poster of it, so we're okay.
I saw this magazine at Borders about two weeks after the Game Seven loss last year. I debated buying it then and decided against it. The next day, I went and bought it. There was a two page article about how Detroit is still Hockeytown, but other than that, there was nothing of importance in the magazine.
The Mule is on my door the most out of all the Wings players. But that makes sense, since it's The Mule and this is Franzenmuth. Oh, Jonas Hiller... [and you can see a Wings pillow to the side of my door and part of a Wings poster.]
Beneath the giant picture of Henrik's face is Marian Hossa. I know most of you think he's a traitor, blah blah blah, but I still like him. And come on, look at how happy he is in this picture. And the caption is awesome, too.
Happy Abdelkader from round one against Phoenix.
Next row! Another Hossa, another pretty awesome caption. This was a pretty good fight anyway.
Oh, Mule and his awesome game-winning goals in the postseason. Man, I miss watching him play.
And finally, the Game Four we all loved. Thanks for the FranzenFries. They were Mule-tastic.
That finishes off the front of the door. I realize how long this post is [length, not overall content/word count], so I'll do the back of the door in a separate post. It's not as epic as the front, but it's still pretty damn sweet.